


Picture Perfect

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Date Night, Dean Has a Plan, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex, Insecure Castiel, M/M, Making Out, Mechanic Dean, Plot Twists, Professor Castiel, Skating, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, one year anniversary, skating rink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 06:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11098929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: It’s not the best place to hang out, granted it smells like athlete’s foot and the cheese pizza tastes like the skin from someone’s athlete’s foot, but it’s the place they met, nonetheless, when Cas chaperoned twenty sixth graders and Dean was trying to impress Amara, the girl at the concession stand, so the wave of sappiness far overpowers the wave of nausea. The plan is to skate, talk—maybe make out behind the crane machine again, you know, soften him up a little. The underlying goal is to get Cas to smile for the photo booth next to the crane machine, because who doesn’t love photo booths? And Dean has the perfect trick up his sleeve.





	Picture Perfect

 

Cas has this thing about pictures.

Most people, they smile, the flare goes off, and they're on their way - after, of course, they gripe about something as small as a strand of hair that's out of place or a nonexistent zit.

Truth is, if you ask Dean anyway, his boyfriend of almost a year, Cas is insecure about his smile, the big, white gummy one that only Dean can achieve, the one that lifts him up after a hot and greasy day underneath the latest shitty car on the market. Not that he hates his job. Being a mechanic has been his dream since he could reach the gas pedal on his dad’s hand-me-down ’67 Chevy. However, it doesn’t change the fact that he would rather be under Cas…

In short, all six-foot, messy brown hair, navy blue eyes, five o'clock shadow he wears like a cape over his plush pink mouth and uses as a windbreaker for his neck, which is usually painted the rich color of Dean's unsated desire, because Cas got promoted from grade school teacher to professor, which means he wears turtlenecks now to cover Dean's Pollock, so the real fun is when Dean, in what you best believe are large strokes, brushes Cas's big, strong thighs and leaves him squirming in pants that don't give enough breathing room as he explains the theory of postmodernism to a hundred-plus students is beautiful.

Yes, he did say _in short._

“This is… unexpected,” Cas chuckles after Dean peels the blindfold off.  

Dean laughs, “Where’d you think I was leading you?”

“Really, Mr. Grey?” he scoffs, “And here I thought you’d cleared your schedule—and your desk—for me.”

It’s not the best place to hang out, granted it smells like athlete’s foot and the cheese pizza tastes like the skin _from_ someone’s athlete’s foot, but it’s the place they met, nonetheless, when Cas chaperoned twenty sixth graders and Dean was trying to impress Amara, the girl at the concession stand, so the wave of sappiness far overpowers the wave of nausea. The plan is to skate, talk—maybe make out behind the crane machine again, you know, soften him up a little. The underlying goal is to get Cas to smile for the photo booth _next_ to the crane machine, because who doesn’t love photo booths? And Dean has the perfect trick up his sleeve.

“Well, I mean, we can recreate the crane machine incident,” Dean offers as a consolation, wrapping his body around Cas from behind like the claw in question. The only difference is Dean’s already won his prize.

“Mmm, you make a compelling suggestion.” Cas pauses, looking behind him in time to catch the sideways smirk on Dean’s face. Cas’s lips almost slide into a perfect, close-mouthed curve, if it isn’t for the small tug at the right corner of his lip, pushing it off course like a roller derby team losing one of its star members around the bend to an unseen member from the opposite team. “And we’re going to skate, too?”

“Of course, yeah. Why?  What’s wrong, babe?” Dean says, letting go of Cas to lay his gently hands on his arms.

Cas looks down, avoiding Dean’s gaze. “I mean… I just don’t to be publicly embarrassed.”

“Cas, you’re a great skater,” Dean reassures, starting to rub hands up and down his arms.

“No, I know I am,” Cas clarifies, “it’s _you_ I don’t want to be publicly embarrassed by.”

Cas’s smile’s back in full swing, this time revealing a little bit of teeth. Dean just shakes his head, scoffing, despite the smile he can feel coming onto him, “Once. I fell _once.”_

“Yeah, and who broke your fall?”

“The most stressed out guy I’d ever seen in my entire life,” Dean replies, relocating his hands to Cas’s face. “But he was super cute, so I let it slide.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you let _everything_ slide,” Cas retorts, leaning in to peck him on the lips. After a year, Dean still finds it hard to believe an action so simple can snatch whatever it was he is going to say right out of his mouth. “Now,” he says after he pulls back, “let’s go before they have to restock the machine.”

 

 

 

Everything goes according to plan. They skate to a few songs (until Dean almost loses it when the DJ switches to REO Speedwagon’s “Can’t Fight This Feeling. Luckily, Cas has a strong enough grip on Dean’s hand to keep them moving, or Dean would’ve belted the chorus in the midst of the traffic swirling around them and they would’ve both went down), talk over terrible concession stand food, and shred at the arcades (Dean may not be a good skater, but he dominates at skee ball). They take their combined earnings and Dean asks for the giant rainbow slinky he’s been eyeing since he’s last been to the rink.

“You’re such a dork,” Cas laughs as he watches a transfixed Dean move the object back and forth in his hands.

“Don’t hate on the Magic Slinky.”

Cas leans his weight against Dean’s shoulder and he asks, “Mmm. Okay, I’ll bite: What’s so magical about it?”

“It’s a slinky, Cas,” Dean says, po-faced. “ _Everything_ about it is magical.”

“No,” Cas replies, “no, I don’t think that’s it.”

“What—?”

Before Dean can finish, Cas is cupping Dean’s face and kissing him, hard. Dean doesn’t even hear the slinky fall to the floor when Cas softens his embrace to add a little tongue—careful not to _show_ it, because it may have been a year ago, but Cas’s former students could still be hanging out here.

Dean kisses him back with just as much passion, but not long because Cas pulls back to ask, “Where else can we make out?”

“Photo booth,” Dean growls against Cas’s mouth, “ _now.”_

They stumble into the small box, draw the curtain, and immediately go for each other again. Dean’s not sure who’s pushing the button while they, _ahem,_ shift into an adequate pose, but the shutter starts going off  and before they both know it, four photos have come and gone.

Dean presses the button again, and Cas grins. “Another round?”

“Something like that,” he says, moving from Cas’s lap to sit beside him on the stool.

The first picture that takes is that cute, confused half-tilt Cas does.

The second is of Cas’s mouth parting as he looks down at Dean’s hands. What it doesn’t capture is the breath being sucked back into his mouth and the strangled noise that hits his throat.

It does capture the shine of the ring, though.

The third picture follows Cas saying the anticipated three-letter word, which unhinges his smile completely, gums and all—Dean’s plan, a success.

 

 

 

 

Oh, and as for the fourth, well, they can add that to their previous photo strip.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
